Here's something to reckon with: Time marches on. It's unrelenting - a monstrous steam roller whose fuel tank never runs dry, whose cogs and gears never need greasing. There are no pit stops or bathroom breaks. Time doesn't stop for lunch. It certainly doesn't stop for you (me).
Whether pushed or pulled (compliments of Time's steely agency), from the moment of birth, you're on a slow (but gradually accelerating) march toward death. Isn't that a lovely notion?
Is it possible to view this thing called life in a different light? All we can hope for, it seems (in lieu of religiosity), are a few distractions along the way. Silly things.
Laughing.
Loving.
Travel.
Music and art.
Sports.
Sex.
Food.
Remove those from the equation and what are you left with? The initial grim realization - the idea of being pulverized, and subsequently dragged, by an unstoppable force.
Egads! Zounds! God's eyes! Am I a guy you'd want to hang out with, or what?
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